


The Past Isn't Set In Stone

by Nerdoreek



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Golden Age, No Slash, Rewite, Time Travel, season 5, season 5 rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdoreek/pseuds/Nerdoreek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Camelot falls, Merlin is left with nobody. Arthur is dead. Simply, he has failed. Or has he? Shortly after Gwen's death, Merlin is faced with a difficult decision. Go back in time and change it for the better? Or live for thousands of years not knowing if Arthur will rise again or not? It seems simple but that means never existing at all once the deed is done. Set in Season 5</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have an account on fanfiction.net and I'll be updating from there first.(I have the same name!) I just thought I should put this story on here too.

The Golden Ages is a time where magic is as normal as any trait.

The Golden Ages is a time where war and sickness had no such grip on the lands as far as the eye could see.

The Golden Ages is a time where King and Queen of Camelot oversee the kingdom together in a benevolent ruling.

The Golden Ages is a time where many of the lands people's, Witches and Druids alike, are seen as what they are in the present and not the future.

The Golden Ages is a time where the Knights Of The Round Table protect Camelot united as brothers.

The Golden Ages is a time where Albion is ruled by The Once And Future King with the his most trusted advisor and most loyal friend, Emrys.

Or the completely unadulterated, unexaggerated, and simple truth:

A time that told the story of two boys who were the best of friends.

However, fate and time are not always on good bearings. We know of days that were and days that will come but sometimes, there will be days will never be. And the time that would have been known as The Golden Ages was made up of many of the days that will never come to pass. The time that replaced it was filled with many aspects that were not the most proud to be about.

Fear rules over the sake of never knowing how something can be used not for hate but love.

People refuse to accept each other and nature turns on it's occupants.

Love is cut short with never truly living.

People are classified as what they might become and not by what they show with their hearts.

Families are torn because of deeply needed but hated sacrifice or simply because of getting caught in the crossfire.

The most kindest and bravest of souls get hit, cursed, and spit on by the hands of hell itself without mercy.

And sometimes even the deepest of friendships cannot stop their imminent end.

Although, when fate and time do come onto good terms, on some impossibly rare and wonderful whim, a second chance for a happy ending exist for the lucky receiving end.

Though most people know it more simply as:

Time Travel.


	2. Last Day Of Camelot

Merlin coughed and spluttered once more while looking back on the looming kingdom that became his home for most of his life.

He'd never thought he be in this spot running from the kingdom he had tied himself to.

But then again there was nothing left for him there.

It was over.

Instead of seeing the normal busy people buzzing about and knights doing their rounds, all he saw was clouds of ash spewing from the burning lower town and the soot covered commoners running from their homes fearing for their lives as the Pendragon red flags were torn down.

It gained nothing for them it would seemed to uninformed onlookers. But, oh, how it exemplified that the mighty kingdom was no more.

The mercenaries were ruthless. They slaughtered everyone in sight. They'd even sent disease in to weaken the city for the first week. Dead bodies were flung over the castle walls. It was confusing at first but Merlin eventually caught on when he examined the bodies. By then, Gauis' teachings did not help when the still unknown disease became a full out epidemic.

He remembered just minutes before sitting in a rickety old chair in his old room. When the mercenaries came in for the final blow on Camelot he had carried Gwen out of the throne room. His feet took over and out of old habit they ended up in the late king's room with doors boarded up and footsteps ringing outside. Slowly and gradually getting closer. He placed her on his bed and held her sickly gray hand. She looked so helpless as the disease took her. He begged any higher force to spare her. They would not take another friend from him. Not again.

Yet, she died smiling at him telling him not to worry, that she could see his face.

Pure heartbreak tore him apart when he looked upon the great kingdom he and the king had built together over the course of the long years of undying friendship. He'd had always thought that it would end in a mighty way, worthy for royalty. But the scattered bodies on the ground showed a much more crueler way of falling. Either dead from the disease the mercenaries threw over the castle wall, or slaughtered in the siege of the citadel.

Gazing upon the dying kingdom, he saw fiery orange burnt skies, heard screams of horror and despair, enough to make one go mad. He looked around the fallen kingdom, extremely overwhelmed. He turned in circles with his head spinning. He felt like sobbing as he did on the day he died. He tried to shut it out. But even after almost fifty years of watching everyone die around him, he let out a surprisingly bitter laugh for his caring character knowing one cruel fact.

He didn't look a day over his early twenties.

Being immortal wasn't a gift from the gods but a cruel joke demons put him to.

"So this how it ends," He said in a cracking voice, "Barely even being born! Just end me already! I want no part in this cruel game of yours!"

He cursed and cried at some higher force up above demanding them to hear him, to answer him. And to who ever had graced upon the voice of a broken man felt the deepest heartbreak imaginable. The cry of one who had lost everything.

He fell to his knees before the Kingdom Who Would Have Been Great. The stone walls and the wooden floors that had become his home. It only seemed fair that he stay there to the end. He had no destiny. Arthur was dead. Gwen was dead. The knights were dead. Gauis was dead. His mother was dead. Everyone was dead. He didn't care for the footsteps that were getting louder each second. He didn't care for the torches that burned brighter as they got closer to him. He didn't care that his legs were throbbing. He sat there in front of Camelot as it took it's last breaths.

His never ending bravery and hope flickered and died out and Camelot did the same.

He was a mere boy again. Vulnerable and reckless. The men that surrounded him were shouting and the torches they held blazed with light. His legs were dripping with a bright red now. Yet, to him, it seemed blurry figures, fiery outlines, and garbled voices surrounded him as his legs went numb and he succumbed to darkness.


	3. Into A Nightmare

Merlin turned into the winding hallways connected the King's Quarters. He skillfully balanced a tray of luxurious food on his left arm while also carrying a jug of blood red wine. Under his right arm; a deftly woven basket filled to the brim with Pendragon red cloth and pristine white bed sheets. He smiled looking out the wooden windows to the courtyard where a mass of Pendragon red capes were gathered. The shining swords attached to there belts glinted in the bright afternoon sun. Servants and commoners bustled about the group knowing it was a daily routine. The group of knights were well known amongst the usual castle dwellers. He caught sight of his friends faces in an instant. The men were listening eagerly to a seemingly extravagant tale a boisterous man in the middle of their group was telling. A loud sound of joy then emitted a few seconds later when the man waved his arms.

Merlin rolled his eyes, exasperated.

Gwaine was waving his hands madly to Leon with a blinding grin. Leon looked on with an unimpressed raise of his eyebrows. Elyan was throwing his head back in laughter while Percival stifled his laughter into his fist. Lancelot looked on the whole scene with a small smile and sense of fondness.

"Probably reenacting one of his tavern brawls," Merlin thought humorously.

He chuckled to himself as he made his way to the desired room. He could hear the faintest click on the heel of his brown leather boots on the cobbled floors. He joyously hummed a simple tune as he dodged castle workers and stone pillars alike. A girl whom he knew worked in the kitchens for a half the time he was the prat's servant had popped out of nowhere and joked,

"The King working you overtime?"

He let out a short bark of laughter, " Isn't he always? I swear the man wouldn't be able to make his own food if he was starving! Much less put on his own shirt!"

"Only you could get away with saying those kinds of things, Merlin."

She smiled kindly, gave him a quick nod, and scampered off.

Merlin continued to complete his duties for the day. If the prat was in good mood that is. Or maybe he'd just tell him to polish his armor again just for fun.

As he neared the sturdy door's of the King's chambers, a woman with long locks of curly brown, dark skin, and a kind smile exited the room with a soft look on her face. Merlin instantly smiled at the woman's infectious warmth and kindness.

"Hello, Merlin."

"Gwen! Thank the gods. If you're here that means he's in a good mood. Maybe he won't make me clean the stables again!"

She laughed, making a melodious tone ring through the corridor.

"I'd be happy to ask him to give you a few days off. Pull a few strings, considering my position."

"Nah. Someone's got to run the place around here. You know. Speeches to write, excuse letters to make."

She laughed again and gave him a small, knowing smile.

"You know, Merlin, if your position as his servant didn't cover it up, I daresay that you two cared for each other."

"What gave you that idea?"

He then grinned brightly with a small goodbye and reached for the door handle. However, something hit him. It struck him down like an ax to a tree.

This wasn't real wasn't it?

Time seemed to slow down. His hand was mere centimeters from the handle when it started shake. The normal seeming basket of laundry and food and drink turned to ash in his hands. The air around him turned stiff and stale. The warm and comforting light seeping from the castle windows died. A force drained him of his naive false comfort and he remained face towards the doors of the chambers.

Don't make me turn around. Please, please, please, don't make this a nightmare.

His senses snapped into place once the idea of facing his fear was shown. He gripped the door handles and tried to pry it open. The door creaked and groaned as he yanked at the openings. The hinges however did not give.

"Give me more time! Let me see him again! Just this once? Before you turn it around?"

"Merlin."

Her voice was dry and raspy. So unlike the melodious sound knew well. His heart stopped, clenching in terror. He recognized this voice. He slowly turned fearing the worst.

Lines appeared around her eyes and her skin wrinkled. Her lips turned chapped and layed with her own blood. The elegant silks she once wore turned shredded and covered in blood and vomit. The way she frantically looked around the room as if something was chasing her and the state of her being showed the effects of the devastating and ruthless sickness. Her skin turned a sickly shade and she dropped to her knees looking down. Merlin looked on in horror. When she looked up, she looked exactly like she did before she died.

Gods of Asgard, have mercy.

"Merlin! Help me! It hurts! Please!"

She sobbed and clawed at the stone beneath his feet. He rushed to hold her and she collapsed into his arms.

"Gwen?"

He brushed the graying hair out her face and she looked up at him with fear.

"I'm scared. Don't let me die, Merlin."

"I-I don't know how t-to help. G-Gwen-"

Her pale, chapped lips trembled. Her eyes welled with tears. She fell to her knees in front of him. She suddenly gasped and started clawing at her throat, choking on the bile in her throat.

"Gwen!"

He then feel to his knees in front of her. Merlin grasped her shoulders and started frantically shouting numerous spells to stop her fit.

"Gwen! Guinevere! Please!"

She stopped shaking and gasping for air and looked up at him.

"M-Merlin. Why won't you help me? I'm scared, Merlin!"

Gwen looked at him with those soul searching orbs. Innocent confusion and heartbreaking despair emitted off her like a tidal wave. His magic wasn't strong enough. This sickness wasn't normal. It reduced the strongest of people to bumbling messes. But he was Emrys! Why couldn't he do something?

He was snapped out of his stupor when his spell wore off. Gwen started shaking more viciously now and her screams tore at his mental barriers as the sickness shredded and tore at her mind and attacked her body. He held onto her for dear life, as if he did everything would be okay.

But once she sagged limply on his shoulder, still and unmoving a new found despair tore through his body. He started shaking himself. He fought against his limbs as he reached to look at her face. He couldn't see it. Not when he knew what had happened last time.

There were no shallow breaths to let him know if she was alive. No soft whispers to tell him she wouldn't leave him. Nothing. There was nothing.

Cold. Lifeless. Dull. Empty.

Merlin slowly let her body sag to the floor lightly and he kissed her forehead before standing up and backing up against the stone walls.

No. The world was cruel and he was just a pawn. And that was okay to him. If this was his special hell, he deserved it. He thought he forgave himself for the things he did in the justified name of his King... but he couldn't say the same for those who got caught in the hopeless battle for the Pendragon's life. All of those people, innocent or guilty themselves, sadly end in tragedy. Merlin couldn't help but think that after trying to keep his best friend from harm that more people around him took the blow. So there he waited for the horns to sound and when Judgement Day would come.

"Give me your worst."

And the nightmares began.


	4. Maybe There Is Hope

w... up...

"I was like you, Merlin. We were the same. Yet you stay quiet and let me die. You could have stopped this. Stop it from the beginning. What happened to you?"

Wake up.

"Doesn't matter now does it? We'll have to time to... 'sort it out' together sooner or later."

WAKE UP!

"See you in hell."

SPLASH!

Merlin sucked in a gasp and immediately curled his long lanky arms around his cold and throbbing legs as a wave of biting coldness rushed over him. He quickly realized that he was now soaking wet in a freezing and damp place with his legs wrapped in layers of blood stained cloth. By the way they were bandaged, he'd say the person was no physician. A shabby done job probably to just stop the bleeding. His thoughts however were torn off of his legs as and cursed silently as his other limbs started quivering. An instinctual thought sprung into his thinking to find out who the hell had wrapped his legs and pray to the gods above that he'd find some warm haven of some sort. Though when his head knocked against metal and his wrists ached and stung in protest of the movement, he sank to his knees, spine immediately stiffening and chest tightening in panic. He blinked blearily at smudged colors and shapes and quickly found himself feeling nails being hammered into his head. He groaned in agony and then promptly whimpered from the frigid wind that had started up.

"Calm down, eh? You're not gettin' out of tha' cage anytime soon."

His senses suddenly went into overdrive now processing the massive group of bodies surrounding an absolutely lovely looking fire that lit up the blanket of darkness that shrouded the area around them. In front of him: a surly seeming Scottish brute donning a flaming red beard. He could see even if everything seemed a bit blurry and his focus was mainly on plotting how to get near that fire- holy gods of Asgard, where could he find a proper physician? Also- did he just say-

"Cage-"

His voiced cracked from a lack of water and disuse and soon was sent into a coughing and spluttering frenzy as soon as he muttered a single word. The Scot sighed exasperatedly and turned to the men behind him.

"Ge' this one some water, Mal!"

"And into that freezing wilderness? Thanks, but, I'm good, Argus. "

A young man, barely five feet tall with messy blond curls shouted back, voice dripping in annoyance at the Scot known as Argus. The burly man glowered at his snappy comment and looked at him, nostrils flaring.

"The Commander will 'ave your head when he finds out tha' his precious resources 'ave died before he's even gotten them! So ge' off ye' lazy bum and get some water, Malwer!"

Unable to deny his logic (and those thick, hairy arms inching towards his presently sheathed sword), he stalked off with a scowl on his face to search for water. When the young man got further out of view, Argus turned back towards the rather small and squeezing cage Merlin realized he was in now that his eyesight had returned to him. After this realization, he made use of his fully functional eyes and glared daggers at the man who had drenched him in water when it felt like it was about to snow!

"Ay! Be thankful tha' I even bothered with you! I could have left you to bleed out and slip in to a coma for all I cared!" Argus frowned at his seeming ungratefulness and chirped in again saying, "Might not be much, but it somethin'. And besides," The giant gave him a knowing smile that made Merlin gaze wearily at him. "I'm sure you be able to magic yourself better when you regain some strength, Emrys."

Merlin immediately perked up when the man had mentioned two of his most well guarded secrets. His faced immediately darkened with suspicion and drowned out his initial annoyance towards the man.

"H-How do you...?" He forced whatever strength he could into a croaking and scratched voice question.

"Next time you fling a druid against a wall, make sure he's dead before walking away. Might be bad for business when an angry sorcerer turns up at your door for vengeance, you know?" Argus cut him off with his extremely nonchalant and surprisingly light toned comment. Merlin furrowed his eyebrows and questioned the man's sanity as Argus chuckled at the thought of having someone flinging him against a wall. "Seriously though. Careful next time. I might not have the time to throw up a protection spell."

Argus then pulled keys out from the chain around his belt and opened the cage. He then offered a wad of white cloth bandages and some salve- or well mushed up greenery. Merlin looked at him with weary eyes before carefully snatching his salvation out of his hands.

"What's in this?" Merlin gestured to the makeshift salve in the wooden cup he offered.

"Er... Yarrow in case of infections and Houseleek to speed things up? That's what army uses all the time. But were not physicians so-"

"Thank you." Merlin smiled gratefully. Argus nodded back.

As Merlin sat in his prison pondering the man's peculiar personality, he open his mouth to hopefully question him further without having a another fit but was cut off when the young soldier returned with water.

"Does this satisfy you, Captain?" The boy disrespectfully snipped to his outranking leader as his threw a water skin over to the cage, successfully hitting his captain's head before ricocheting to Merlin.

"I could kick your arse for that!"

"Really? So that whole speech about watching myself in battle and the quite touching i-care-about-you comment you made yesterday was nothing?"

Argus smirked and replied cheekily, "You're learning."

Malwer huffed in annoyance and turned away grumbling in distaste. The corners of Merlin's mouth twitched into a small smile at the exchange when Argus turned back to him holding a water skin.

"What are smilin' bout'!?"

"I've been alive for a long time, my friend." Merlin's grin faded before a another soft, nostalgic look replaced it. "Long enough to know a friendship like that doesn't come around as often as it should in a lifetime."

"Friendship? Must of lost a lot of blood there, Emrys."

Merlin snickered at his denial and opened his mouth but was cut of by an abrupt and forceful comment with an undertone of shut-up-or-I'll-kill-you feeling. "You should rehydrate. I'll be back in the mornin'. They'll off ya' if you're not back on yer' feet by the time we reach the city." His eyes darted to the wilderness around them as if something were about to leap out and whispered softly, "I'll...erm... accidentally leave the cage open when your healed up. I believe there's a druid camp a few paces north of here."

A sigh of relief escaped Merlin and the metal cage beneath him didn't seem so cold and hard anymore. "Thank you."

Argus stroked his beard before gesturing to Merlin saying, "About the water... Do mind if er'..." He waggled his fingers.

Catching on, Merlin answer quickly, "Please do."

Argus nodded in respect and warily gazed towards his comrades before mumbling a quick spell under his breath. His eyes burned like the sun before fading to their normal vibrant green. Merlin curled in on himself as he felt the warm presence of his magic wash over him. For a big, tough guy his magic felt like a warm blanket on a winter's night. A hug on a sad day. Tea and honey. You'd expect someone different from the six foot giant to have that magic. From that moment, Merlin knew his heart was pure.

"I'm sorry I can't do more. I'm absolute rubbish at healin' magic."

"You've done enough already. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Emrys."

He smiled and turned to walk back to the campsite. A steady crunching of leaves ran into his ears until wasn't.

"Argus...?"

"I still believe in that old druid tale as insane as it may be."

Merlin's mood sank drastically. A air of silence and disappointment resonated around him. He looked down at the bare, metal floor playing with the edges his bandages.

"Even when the Once and Future King no longer walks the earth. So what if he's dead? He's been king once. There's still the future. It's in the name, you know."

"How could someone still believe in him? After that failure of a Golden Age?" Merlin thought incredulously.

By the time he looked up, Argus was gone with the wind.

So he sat there for him to come back. He sat hoping his words were true.

That when all seemed lost, a stupid, blonde prat would ride in on a mighty steed, over the fields like the king he was.

A pitiful hope it was to Merlin. Crazy, sad, false even! It may have been all of that and more...

But it was hope.


End file.
